


Antidote

by Pixeled



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: F/M, Lies, Love, Missed signals, Mutual Destruction, Quiet suffering, Regret, Secret Relationship, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:00:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24841921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixeled/pseuds/Pixeled
Summary: Lucrecia would come and sit beside him, laying her head on his shoulder. She often fell asleep there, lulled to sleep by the beauty and the rhythm of the keys. She’d wake up, smile, and tell Vincent he had beautiful hands. He looked at his hands whenever she said it. They were the hands of a killer, of a bad man, not a pianist’s, but because she says it, it’s somehow okay.
Relationships: Lucrecia Crescent/Vincent Valentine
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Antidote

Vincent and Lucrecia sleep in different beds, but their sleep is both restless.

Vincent is the first to wake. He walks down the spiraling staircase that leads to the foyer as if on a track.

There’s a grand piano pushed off to the side. When he first opened the lid, cobwebs had made their home there. In the night he cleaned and tuned the piano. It had been a few years, but it was exactly like riding a bicycle. His fingers fit in position like they were meant to touch the keys. He played “You Are My Sunshine” that first night.

Some nights he played sad tunes. Sometimes he played happy songs. Funeral dirges.

Lucrecia would come and sit beside him, laying her head on his shoulder. She often fell asleep there, lulled to sleep by the beauty and the rhythm of the keys. She’d wake up, smile, and tell Vincent he had beautiful hands. He looked at his hands whenever she said it. They were the hands of a killer, of a bad man, not a pianist’s, but because she says it, it’s somehow okay.

When dawn breaks they go back to their separate rooms. Vincent looks in the mirror. Eventually he covers it with a towel so he doesn’t have to look at himself. He’s living a lie, falling in love with someone he shouldn’t. And he’s not okay.

In Lucrecia’s room she looks in the mirror and tells herself all she wants is to be okay.

They keep meeting by the piano. She seeks him out on his breaks. He likes to sleep by the big tree outside the manor. It shadows him and she can’t help but feel dread. She’s falling deep. She only feels what she lacks. She feels the weight of her mistakes. That night Lucrecia kisses him, tells him she loves him. The poison of her heart spreads to him. She’s tainted him.

Vincent doesn’t feel tainted. He feels lonely, and Lucrecia fills the empty gnawing hole in his heart that festers like a poison.

No one knows what is going inside their heads.

They want to be okay.

Just okay.

But they need help.

Lucrecia stands over her sink, takes several pregnancy tests. They all say positive.

She cries. She knows what she must do.

She thinks of Grimoire. He told her to tell Vincent he loved him. He didn’t tell her to fall in love with him. He didn’t tell her to have his baby.

She slowly goes insane.

She marries Hojo before she starts to show. Outside the manor she takes Vincent’s hands and dies quietly inside as she tells him about her and Hojo, that despite the marriage the baby is his.

No one knows what’s going on up inside their heads and they’re scaring themselves.

Vincent’s fingers dance across the piano, and the voices in his head amplify. How do you run from your own mind?

Lucrecia thinks about what she’s done and she hears the voices inside her head amplify and she’s scaring herself.

As she progresses through the pregnancy she goes down to the piano but Vincent is no longer there.

She thinks: the antidote is right here in her hands. All she has to do is tell the truth, change her plans. But all she thinks is she is a mistake. The poison inside her spreads.

No one knows what’s going on up inside her head.


End file.
